


Dance With Me

by hailbabel



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, FitzBirch, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailbabel/pseuds/hailbabel
Summary: Isabella has been trying to get Nancy to let down her guard. Ballroom dancing was not her most inspired idea, but it would do.





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to be working my way backwards along their relationship. This fic takes place before "Release", which takes place before "Discipline."

Isabella had been trying all day to get Nancy here, in the ballroom, laughing. She’d been trying all day to get that woman to let her guard down for just a moment. And, finally, here she was. It didn’t have to be the ballroom, specifically. Any room would have done! But as they were passing, Isabella was struck by a sudden idea. She’d pulled Nancy by the wrist, throwing the doors open with her free hand.

“Have you ever danced, Nancy Birch?”

A wry look crossed Nancy’s features, and Isabella could just see the snarky comments building up within her.

“Not any dance you’d know, your Ladyship.”

Isabella had her own sideways comment for that, but she kept it to herself.

“Then I’ll have to teach you,” she said smoothly.

She released Nancy’s wrist and advanced further into the room with a sway of her hips and a tilt of her head. She didn’t have to look back to know that Nancy was following, the nervous tapping of the birch cane said everything. Isabella allowed herself a small smile for her small victory.

When she turned around, Isabella had to suppress a grin. Nancy was standing in the middle of the room, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen her. Isabella’s thoughts were cast back to a certain carriage ride only a few weeks ago. Yes, even more uncomfortable than that.

Even so, Nancy cut a handsome, dark figure in the light-filled room. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, several locks askew in a rakish sort of way. Her long coat served to enhance the hard lines of her shoulders and waist, and her hard eyes gave her the appearance of some bird of prey. It was all a very dashing sight, somewhat undercut by the way she couldn’t decide what to do with her hands. Or perhaps, Isabella thought, that made her all the more endearing.

“You can put your cane down,” Isabella said. She wanted to make some joke, but thought better of it. Nancy, for all her hard lines and gruff words, was as nervous as a doe and as fleet as a hare.

Nancy crossed to the edge of the room and gently, hesitantly, let her birch rest against the wall. Isabella suppressed the little thrill that rose up in her chest. Another victory.

“May I?” She indicated Nancy’s coat, slipping behind her to take it from her when Nancy gave a curt nod. Isabella imagined she could see the beginnings of a smile as her hands slid over Nancy’s shoulders. She didn’t look too hard, however, for fear that it would evaporate under scrutiny. Instead, she let her eyes drift to the nape of Nancy's neck where a few stray strands of hair had fallen. Isabella itched to brush them away. She laid the coat on the low windowsill next to Nancy’s birch, turning to admire her trim profile. The idea that Nance looked better and better as she shed her clothes wandered slowly through Isabella's mind. She let it linger, treacherous as it was, and a warmth bloomed inside her.

“And your hat?”

“The hat stays.” Nancy’s tone was hard, but her eyes were alight with a sideways kind of mirth.

Isabella offered her hand and Nancy took it with a little bow, brushing her lips over Isabella’s fingers. This time, she didn’t resist the butterflies in her stomach. “How gallant,” she said genuinely. Nancy smirked in response, perhaps thinking that Isabella was making some jest. In truth, Isabella couldn’t remember ever having been treated so finely by any man.

Her eagerness renewed, Isabella pulled Nancy back to the middle of the room, stepping in close. "Here," she said, "give me this hand and put the other one about my waist." Isabella absolutely noticed the way Nancy gulped, and how her hand rested so lightly, so tentatively. She simply chose not to bring it up. A part of her enjoyed having the upper hand, but it would benefit no one to gloat. Just yet. She was taking Nancy far, far out of her comfort zone, as someone had once done for her. One step at a time.

"Keep your elbows up," Isabella instructed. "Right, just like that, and your feet," here, she nudged Nancy's feet a little further apart, "just so. Perfect."

"You trying to get between my legs, Isabella?" Nancy quipped, cocking one eyebrow. "You know I don't come for free."

Isabella let that little jest pass unchallenged, quirking her lips in a grin. "Now, bend your knees--".

"Not for less than a guinea."

"And step lightly!" Isabella said over Nancy's smug interjection, though she couldn't help but be charmed by it. "Left foot first," Isabella finished, a wide smile on her lips.

Distantly, she thought she would pay much more than a guinea.

"Now the right foot, keep it light and bouncy."

"Bouncy, hm? You're making this far too easy, Isabella."

"Are you calling me easy, Nancy," Isabella said into Nancy's ear, causing the other woman to bark with laughter. It was a rough, but pleasant sound, and Isabella realized she had not heard Nancy laugh in a very long time.

"Well, you're not exactly hard, now are you?"

At this, Isabella dissolved into giggles, letting her head fall into the nape of Nancy's neck. She could feel Nancy stiffen ever so slightly and made to draw away, but not before fully appreciating her clove and cinnamon scent. "And how would you know that?" Isabella couldn't help but whisper, her lips passing so close to Nancy’s ear as she righted herself.

"S'pose you'll have to show me sometime, eh?"

This was it. This was what she had been aiming for all morning. Nancy, bright and open, in her arms, without a care in the world. Perhaps she should have taught her to dance sooner.

"That's the basic step. I think you can try a spin, now."

"A what?"

"Spin! Come, you’ll do fine," Isabella said, pushing forward. She held her arm aloft, stepping away with an encouraging smile.

Nancy leveled a look at her that spoke volumes of her discomfort. "Shouldn't I be leading you?"

"Yes, but you don't know how yet." Nancy rolled her eyes at this and, grudgingly, spun out to the extent of her reach.

"You're doing wonderfully," Isabella said. "Now back in the opposite direction."

Despite herself, Nancy actually looked to be having a good time. When she came back into Isabella's embrace, Nance gripped her a bit tighter and fell confidently into step. Next, Isabella showed her how to make a turn by gradually adjusting the angle of her steps. As they waltzed around the room, Isabella made adjustments here and there, humming a steady one-two-three rhythm, but let her mind wander. She imagined they were at a ball, dressed fashionably from head to foot. Other couples were dancing around them, but none so elegantly. And no one had as handsome a companion as she did.

For a moment, Isabella looked at Nancy and thought of another. Bright blue eyes, raucous curls, and a garishly bright dress.

The thought was dashed from her mind by a swift change in perspective.

Isabella shrieked as Nancy dipped her suddenly. For being so dainty, she had surprising strength, and Isabella let her laugh be bright and airy as she rose again. Nancy was grinning triumphantly when she returned, and made to spin Isabella away.

It didn't occur to either of them how their height difference might factor, and Nancy stumbled suddenly into Isabella who was laughing brightly.

Isabella gripped Nance tightly, steadying them both, noting how very small Nance felt in her arms. She was all hard edges and corded muscle, but she was warm, and her hair smelled of cloves. Isabella sighed as she breathed in that scent again. It was all rather endearing.

Instantly, Nancy's hard edges went sharp and her laughter snuffed out. Isabella instantly released her grip, as much as she wished to continue holding her, and let Nance take a step back.

Heartrending, she thought. That was the word for that.

"Please," Isabella said softly. "I won't hold you if you don't want me to, but please, don't run away from me."

"I...I don't know how to do this," Nancy breathed out. Her voice was all wound up, and her shoulders tensed.

"Dance?"

"No, this. This thing, here! You're nice to me and I'm nice to you and no one wants any money."

“Is it so difficult to imagine that I might not want anything from you?”

“_Everyone_,” Nancy ground out, “wants something.”

Isabella pursed her lips. In the back of her own mind a dark feeling twisted and coiled, threatening a familiar terror. Everyone wants something. Was it not true? Had she not seen this very idea reflected in everyone she’d ever met? Harcourt, her high-class peers, a string of suitors--didn’t they all want something from her?

Isabella pushed that painful line of thought from her mind. It was a trick, a trap laid by a beast to keep her small and afraid. That part of her life was over, she thought, that piece of herself burned away to ash. She was the only one who could breathe it back to life, and she refused to fall into that trap again.

“What if,” she began carefully, “today, all I want to do is dance with you?” Isabella put her hands out, palm up.

“That’s all?”

“Nothing more.”

After a long moment Nancy took her hand again, placing the other about her waist.

“Unless there’s something you want,” Isabella added with a twist of her lips.

The tiniest huff of laughter escaped Nancy, and she fell into that familiar step again. “Hush, girl. Dance with me.”

Isabella, of course, wanted nothing more in the entire world.


End file.
